


Taste The Apples

by melanie1982



Category: Blue Bloods (TV)
Genre: F/M, Grief, Love, Poetry, intuition?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-10
Updated: 2017-10-10
Packaged: 2019-01-15 19:17:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,031
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12327147
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/melanie1982/pseuds/melanie1982
Summary: Danny does, as promised, find traces of Linda in the strangest of places.. but also finds room for what is to come.Set one year after Linda's passing.This story is pretty much the perfect excuse to trot out one of my favorite quotations (the Louise Erdrich one).Fiction. I don't own these characters. I make no money from this.





	Taste The Apples

Danny wasn't sure what kept drawing him to the little church. First it was just the occasional brief visit on his lunch break, barely long enough to cross himself and light a candle, but soon, he found himself seeking sanctuary there once or twice a week after the boys were safely in bed at Erin's or Frank's. His father had begun to wonder whether Danny was dating again, but the truth was so far from that suspicion as to be laughable. 

He had always enjoyed the solitude, only seeing the occasional babushka type seated in a pew, mumbling prayers to herself. That all changed, however, one rainy Thursday, as Danny was ruing the prospect of another weekend without her, without work to distract him, followed by the Sunday dinner with one less attendee -

"Oh! I'm sorry," said a woman as she rushed through the open door to escape the rain. He noticed it had misted her hair, which was long, and so brown that it was almost black. Her sweater had the same soft, imprecise color as Linda's eyes, and she was carrying an armload of books - hence the rush to get out of the rain. 

Danny froze for a moment, dazed, before excusing himself and hurling his weary body into the night. The woman called out after him, but he couldn't hear her words over the pounding of the rain and the thundering of his heart.

Several days elapsed, and Danny hadn't ventured back, but the pull was strong. He liked that nobody there knew his name or any of what his family had endured. Nobody bothered him, and it was almost like living another life. For all that he loved to talk, Danny began to understand the appeal of monastic life, with its quiet and routine, and its lack of opportunities for getting your heart broken.

It was a Saturday night, and at first, Danny thought perhaps someone was simply setting up for morning services. The chapel door was locked, and he frowned, barred entry from his place of respite. There was a sign taped to the jamb of the door, telling any visitors to use the side entrance. With a shrug, he headed that way, wondering in his detective brain: Were they doing some kind of cleaning or repairs? Why was the chapel locked? 

As he rounded the corner of the building, he saw another sign, instructing him to ring the bell. Why couldn't they simply leave the door open? It's not like God went to bed at night..

The same woman as before opened the door, light spilling out from behind her. "You're back," she said, and for a moment he felt confused. They hadn't so much as introduced one another, let alone formed any kind of acquaintanceship. 

"Um, hi. I was.. Is the chapel open?" Danny felt a strange buzzing between his ears. With any luck, he was having a mini-stroke or something, he thought. But then the boys -

"Oh. You aren't here for the group?"

Danny blinked, trying to keep his temper; this was, after all, a church. "I'm here to spend time in the chapel. What 'group'?"

"The bereavement support group."

Danny hesitated, cursing himself for it. He should say something to end this exchange, or better still, just walk away, but his mouth got the better of him.

"Why would I need such a group?"

"I've noticed you here a few times. You always seem so.."

"So..?"

"Lost," she decided. "Most people look worried, or even angry, but you look so.. worn out."

"Gee, thanks. Well, since my alone-time in the chapel is off the table, I'll just - "

"I'm right, aren't I?"

He quirked an eyebrow. "Excuse me?"

She changed tack. "If you stay for the group, I can see about letting you have a few minutes alone in the chapel when it's over. Deal?"

Danny was used to deals. They were stock in trade in his profession, offering what you knew the suspect wanted or needed to hear in order to cooperate. Sometimes it was a threat, and other times, it was an incentive. This woman was offering the latter.

Danny wavered. Peering beyond the figure in the doorway, he saw a small gathering of strangers. He could still be anonymous; he could even use an alias, should he choose to.

"It's only an hour, tops. Maybe less."

The woman was persistent, and she seemed to want to help. With a sigh, Danny crossed the threshold. The door closed behind him, and he found that, while it wasn't the chapel, the room was cozy enough.

He took an empty seat in the circle. Who knows?, he asked himself; maybe he'd get something out of this.

After waiting a few more minutes and satisfied that no one else was coming, the woman began. 

"Good evening, everyone. My name is Angela, and I'll be facilitating this meeting - tonight, and for the next five weeks."

Danny pursed his lips, not wanting to tell her, or the group, that he wouldn't be back. Angela continued.

"Why don't we start by taking turns introducing ourselves, and then telling a little bit about why we're here?"

Something deep inside of Danny dropped even lower, landing inside his guts with a splash. He fought the urge to bolt. 

Angela gently prompted the first attendee, an older woman who introduced herself as Greta and spoke in glowing terms of her late husband, Herbert. Next was a man somewhere between Frank and Grandpa's ages who had lost a grandson. Danny reflected upon the time he had nearly lost one of his own sons, and failed to hear the next three speakers, the pain of the near-miss mingling with the agony of losing his wife. Suddenly, he sensed all eyes in the room being focused upon him.

"I do believe you're the last one," Angela said helpfully. Danny spoke up.

"Okay. My name is .. Donnie. Donnie Randall. And, um, I'm here because I lost my wife.. Linda." He couldn't change her name and make her memory a lie. He just couldn't do it.

"Hi, Donnie," the group chorused. He lost his nerve to continue.

"Would you please share a little bit about her with the group?" Angela's eyes shone with such a depth of compassion that Danny had to look away.

"She was.. Of all the girls I ever met, she stood out. Not because she tried harder, but because she didn't. She told me early on that she wanted me, but she didn't *need* me. That, that if I wasn't smart enough to choose her, then she'd be just fine without me. She'd live an amazing life alone, or with somebody else." Here, Danny surprised himself by laughing softly. "Boy, that was really throwing down the gauntlet. And, uh, after that, we just, well, we were never apart. I just knew."

Angela nodded as though she were truly listening. Danny suddenly felt a rush of words threatening to break forth. Being able to speak about his wife to people who didn't know her and hadn't already heard all of the stories gave him an energy he hadn't known he possessed.

"Linda was a nurse. She died on the job. She spent so much of her life taking care of people - of me, of our two boys, of my family, of strangers.. And I guess - I guess I find myself wondering: Did I take good enough care of her? Who was there for her, after she gave and gave and gave all day and night - who took care of Linda?"

Angela found her segue. "Each of us has those thoughts, Donnie. We each regret not saying the things we think we should have, or doing enough to show that we cared. People live such busy lives, pushing aside the fact that each of us is here for a set length of time. But the good news is, grief can make us slow down. It can make us aware of the moment - for the present moment is all we ever have."

That resonated with him somehow. Danny was ready to listen with a less cynical ear.

"Okay, everyone - I thought it might be helpful if we read some inspirational thoughts about life, love, and death, as written by some of the greatest minds in history."

Angela handed out sheets of paper with neatly-typed quotations, and had each attendee take turns reading them aloud.

Danny's was: "The only way to get over a death is by seeing it as a life completed, instead of a life interrupted. -Anonymous." Danny resisted the urge to make a quip about 'Anonymous' being one of the greatest minds in history. 

Once they'd gone around the room twice, all of the words had been read. Angela led the discussion about which ones people agreed or disagreed with, which ones were funny, which ones were comforting and so on. Danny said little from that point on, but he was taking it all in. Angela seemed to respect that he had reached his limit for the time being, and didn't call on him.

As promised, when the rest of the group had shuffled out, Angela led Danny to the chapel. He had almost forgotten their deal.

"Will twenty minutes be long enough? I still have to put the chairs away and make sure everything is ready for the morning," Angela asked.

"Sure. That's, that's plenty. Thank you."

After crossing himself, he made his way to the front pew. It felt later than it truly was; the nights were getting longer, and the chapel seemed cozy - though not as cozy as the room where they'd held the meeting.

Danny found his brain was full of words, mostly from men and women long dead. "They all know the secret, Linda. I guess now you do, too."

He thought back to the time the boys had asked their parents about death. How many years had it been? Danny had tried to recall anything useful - a snippet of a sermon, a Sunday school platitude, anything - didn't they have an after-school special for this or something? - and Linda had swooped in to save the day.

"Boys, my mother used to say, whenever someone died, that we shouldn't be sad. You know why?"

The boys, rapt, had shaken their silent heads 'no.'

"Because when someone dies, they learn the secret."

Jack's eyes had widened. "WHAT secret?"

"The secret of what happens when we die, sweetie." Danny admired Linda's calm.

Sean had laughed at his brother, as if it was so obvious, but he, too, had been impressed. "So, old lady Dempsey from my Sunday school, and Mr. Squeakers, and all those people whose pictures we see on the news - they know the secret?"

Linda had kept up the patter without flinching. The news? She'd have to ask Danny why the kids were allowed to see the late edition.. "That's right."

After a little more back-and-forth with mom, the boys had turned to dad for confirmation.

"Your mom's right, boys."

With a shrug, the kids had gone off to play, satisfied for the time being.

In the present, Danny bowed his head, closing his eyes just for a moment. Angela cleared her throat softly from a few rows back. "Donnie?"

Danny roused himself, almost correcting the name before he remembered. "Okay. Twenty minutes already. Wow."

Angela stepped aside to let him pass, following behind so she could lock up.

"Will you be back next week?" She chided herself for asking.

"I'm not sure. But I will keep this," he assured her, pulling the folded-up quotations from his pocket.

"Before you go, there's a book that I think would help you."

Oh, boy. Was she a religious nut? Was she going to try to save his soul? Sell him something? What was going on?

Angela handed him a rather plain, unassuming volume, thin, like Jamie's old high school poetry books.

"Taste the Apples," Danny read aloud from the spine. "Thanks." There was no jacket, despite it being a hardback. It was clearly well-worn, a cherished possession, oft-used. 

They were at the side door within a few steps. "Well, I'm very glad you stayed tonight, Donnie. Take care of yourself and your two boys."

Danny nodded, offering up a weak smile. "I will. Thanks."

\------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

That book remained unopened in his desk drawer. Danny saw it every time he had to retrieve a current file, and it taunted him. Why was he afraid to go back? And why was he scared of a book?

Tired of seeing it at work every day, and afraid someone would find it, Danny finally took it home. It seemed rude to throw it away; should he return it to the church with a note, to make sure it got back to Angela? Should he donate it to charity?

Another sleepless night found him in search of a distraction. He'd had to cut the cable to save money to feed two growing boys, and local channels didn't appeal. Danny felt the book calling to him from the nightstand.

"Alright, alright - you win," he grumbled, retrieving the text.

Stretching his legs, Danny began to pace the floor in the too-empty room. He was restless; something about his dreams lately was tugging at his mind, but he wasn't ready to deal. 

Opening to a random page, Danny began to follow the words, first with his eyes, then with his lips.

"Life will break you. Nobody can protect you from that, and living alone won't either, for solitude will also break you with its yearning." He paused, taking a hard swallow of his own pain before continuing. Maybe this was a bad idea. But it was open, and maybe this was one of the strangest of places where he'd find a piece of Linda - just as she'd promised.

"You have to love. You have to feel. It is the reason you are here on earth. You are here to risk your heart. You are here to be swallowed up. And when it happens that you are broken, or betrayed, or left, or hurt, or death brushes near - "

here, he paused, pointing the book downwards towards the floor like a loaded gun to give himself a moment, eyes stinging as the room became blurred -

Danny finished reading the passage, then flopped down onto the bed and wept and wept until there was no more strength for grief. 

As he slid into unconsciousness, he saw the chapel morphing into the meeting room, and he knew where he had to go.

It was the final meeting of the six-week series. If Angela was surprised to see 'Donnie,' she didn't show it; she simply opened the door and moved aside to let him in.

He received a few warm smiles from the others in the group. They seemed.. peaceful, and it made him wish he'd been strong enough to attend the other sessions. Still, perhaps this final one would give him something of value.

The hour was almost up, and Angela wanted to end things on a positive note. "You've all come a long way over the past several weeks, each in your own way. I think now would be a good time to - sum up, whatever you feel you've gained from your time here, whatever is going to help you as you continue on your journey."

Danny felt the book burning into his lap as each member spoke from the heart. When it was his turn, he felt pulled up out of his seat by an invisible string, and the book again opened to the passage which had broken him. In a voice tight with emotion, Danny began to read aloud for the benefit of the group:

"Life will break you. Nobody can protect you from that, and living alone won't either, for solitude will also break you with its yearning. You have to love. You have to feel. It is the reason you are here on earth. You are here to risk your heart. You are here to be swallowed up. And when it happens that you are broken, or betrayed, or left, or hurt, or death brushes near - "

Danny took a deep breath, letting it out slowly; it was less painful when you knew what was coming, not like the last time -

"or death brushes near, let yourself sit by an apple tree and listen to the apples falling all around you in heaps, wasting their sweetness. Tell yourself you tasted as many as you could. -Louise Erdrich."

Danny sat down, spent, and the others began a slow clap, picking up momentum. Danny had something in his eye, clearing it with a quick swipe of his hand.

The group was invited to partake of light refreshments before parting ways.

Danny handed the book back to Angela without fanfare, and she opened to the inside front cover, jotting something down in silence as the group said their farewells over weak tea and apple tarts.

He found himself lingering as the others made their way into the night.

"Donnie? I'd like you to keep the book," Angela offered.

He opened his mouth to protest, but something in her face was so sweetly stubborn, familiar almost, that he caved.

"Thank you. It was.. It's helping."

"Good. It takes time. Keep reading, and keep finding comfort wherever you can. It shows up in the strangest of places."

Danny felt his face drain of all color, nodding mutely as he focused on walking without tripping.

When he got home, he thumbed through the pages again, finally curious enough to peek at the inside cover.

There was a new quotation, written by hand:

"Every man has his secret sorrows which the world knows not; and often times we call a man cold when he is only sad." - Henry Wadsworth Longfellow

Beneath that sentiment was a phone number, urging him to call if he needed to talk to someone who understood the loss of a spouse. It hit him then, why she led the group; she'd lost her own love, but she'd turned her pain into something beautiful and life-affirming.

Danny almost dropped the book as he read her signature:

Angela Reagan.

The strangest of places, indeed.


End file.
